


All the Pretty Things (that we could be)

by s_mcmenamin



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles needs a hug, Cherik - Freeform, Erik Has Feelings, Erik POV, Erik has a crush, First Class, Get Together, Hurt Charles, I don't know what I'm doing with this fic, M/M, OTP Feels, RoadTrip!, This might expand to cover more of First Class, guiltyErik, maybe angst later?, wheeeeee all my cherik feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3892594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_mcmenamin/pseuds/s_mcmenamin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik and Charles are busy finding and recruiting - sometimes rescuing - young mutants using Cerebro.  But then they meet another young telepath, and Charles reacts completely unexpectedly.  Erik is left with a lot more confused feelings than he had before, and he can only compartmentalize so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> K guys so this is set during Charles and Erik's big recruiting trip in First Class, but depending on how inspired I feel I may kind of "expand it backwards" to build more from the beginning of First Class. And also add on going towards the end. Constructive criticism and happy thoughts welcome!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I ended up writing a chapter that falls before my older first chapter. Looks like this story will just come together in strange and unusual ways.

Erik stepped into the dimly lit hotel room, closing the flimsy door behind him with a finality that signaled the end of another exhausting day on the tail end of a discouraging week. He sunk slowly into a chair, kicking off shoes and letting his feet scrape against the rough maroon carpet as he buried his face in his hands.  
The three mutants they’d visited today had either been disinterested or had outright refused their offer. The first had been like many who had a very weak mutation – mostly unaffected, and perfectly happy remaining in society. She was a young single mother with a perfectly photographic memory, and was fine keeping herself and her young son away from their world. Erik understood and accepted this.

The others he did not comprehend. One had been a striking Korean woman in her mid 20’s who could control the flow of air around her; she threatened to suffocate them if she wasn’t left alone in the future, quickly ushering them out of her small apartment past her startled roommate. The other had been a rough looking man hunched over a glass in a bar, who had told them to “fuck off” before they could get out anything more than their names. Erik had been able to play it off with good grace and humor at the time, but he was feeling anything but amiable.

It wouldn’t be so bad, he reasoned, if it weren’t so common for these mutants to turn them away, to choose to try and ignore or hide their gifts rather than feeling comfortable in their own skins. He imagined what it would have been like had someone come to break him out of the camps as a boy, how quickly he would have gone… But Charles had led them to no fewer than 19 possible recruits in the last week alone, and they had not one newcomer to show for it. The success they’d enjoyed early on, finding Angel, Sean, Alex… had certainly been shortlived.

  
Erik’s scowl deepened. These people just didn’t seem to get it – when something gets ugly, humanity will stop at nothing to find someone to blame, especially if they are convinced that many others will stand behind them. To Erik it was obvious that they were on the brink of political and social unrest, and just as obvious that mutants were the next group to bring down – the one that presented the easiest target. Charles played it like a game, and while Erik loved to watch the other man in his element – all bright eyed enthusiasm – sometimes he felt that he’d turned his back on his duty, and it grated.

  
Erik would be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed the road trip. But as time went on, the nagging sensation that he had somewhere to be got harder and harder to ignore. He hadn’t gone this long focused on something besides Shaw since – since the beginning. And now their streak of failure (just a different *choice*, Charles insisted – but Erik always thought of it as failure) was sending him into a spiraling bad mood, a land of worsening nightmares and bottled up frustration.  
The door swung open suddenly and Charles was ushered into the room by a chilly evening breeze, his black wool coat flapping gently. The atmosphere in the room suddenly seemed warmer, cozy and intimate rather than dumpy and washed out – but that was just Charles. His presence was pervasive, to say the least. He plopped a bag on one of the two double beds before settling into a chair across from Erik, letting out a whoosh of breath as he ran fingers through already wind rumpled hair and tugged off his fingerless gloves. “I popped by the deli across the street… sandwiches and wine for supper?”

  
Erik sat back, his frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he gave the room another perfunctory glance and settled for looking out the window. “Yes, that’ll be fine… I’m going to shower first.”

  
Charles groaned theatrically. “Must we wait? I’m practically starving, Erik, and no matter how filthy you are it won’t be enough to put me off.”  
“You can just start without me then.”

  
The telepath rolled his eyes. “It will not kill me to wait, although it may come close. I can use the time to add to the log –“ Charles had been keeping a journal of sorts, of the different mutations they met in their travels – “but Erik! How about the girl we met today! I just… it’s really amazing, isn’t it?” He looked earnestly at Erik, face open and bright. Sometimes Erik forgot that at heart, Charles was every bit the geek Hank was when it came to anything involving mutation.  
Erik stood abruptly, almost knocking the table into his friend. “I’m showering now, Charles.” He moved over to his suitcase, started digging for a change of clothes.  
Charles stood carefully, moving his chair aside. “Erik… what’s the matter? You’ve been practically exuding this… moodiness… for days now. What’s troubling you, friend?” Some of the enthusiasm had fallen from his voice.

  
But Erik could not tell him. Couldn’t tell him that Shaw was invading his sleep again and that he itched to be on a different mission. Couldn’t tell him that watching mutants turn down their destinies over and over was driving him crazy with wasted potential. Couldn’t tell him that honestly it had just been a rough week, the anniversary of his mother’s death having come and gone, and he was tired and irritable because of it, because he could not escape his own mind.  
He shook his head, mouth set firmly. “It’s nothing, Charles, just leave it.”  
“You could be a better liar, you know.”

  
Erik felt Charles’ hand settle gently but firmly on his shoulder, and he cursed himself for leaning into the touch – for wanting it – as much as he cursed Charles for insinuating that Erik could ever be good at lying to Charles, because Erik wasn’t afforded that luxury around a telepath, was he?  
He shook his head roughly, shrugging off the hand and pushing the new anger down into the mental box where he’d been keeping all the frustrations of the last few weeks. Erik’s mind, in his own perception, was a neatly organized cabinet – everything neatly tucked away, sorted by what type of thought or memory or feeling it was and carefully modulated and controlled – a cabinet forced into existence by a childhood that had required him to develop a mind that could withstand the vagaries of Shaw’s torture.  
It was then, as he was filing away his little furies, that he felt Charles’ mind step into his own – Erik, just tell me - and ruffle gently against his thoughts in an attempt to discern what was needling Erik. Because of course Charles would try to help, and of course he would look. Charles had grown more free with his telepathy around Erik over the course of the trip – it was useful to them to be able to communicate non-verbally, and Erik trusted Charles and would not snap every time he felt the telepath’s presence, because it was just in Charles’ nature to exude feelings the way other people shared facial expressions, and to pick up on the surface thoughts of those around him.  
So of course Charles looked. But this, this was different than picking up surface emotions, this was going into Erik’s head and consciously looking for a specific something, and of course he looked and how DARE he. How dare this pretentious telepath - who had already stood in front of Erik and announced that he knew everything about him - dig through his thoughts as if it was his right to know what was wrong? How dare he suggest that Erik had even a dream of lying to a fucking telepath? How dare he take that liberty, and how dare he make it feel comfortable, as if he belonged in Erik’s head?

  
And so somewhere deep in Erik’s subconscious mind, the anger exploded, and Erik imagined mental claws and grabbed onto the little thing in his head that was Charles and dragged him deeper in, into one of the boxes he’d made, ignoring the flare of shock that shot out electric blue from the mental tether connecting him to Charles. He ignored the fact that Charles was still standing frozen still behind him, and that a tiny strangled noise had escaped the telepath’s throat.  
He ignored all of this, and he dug down into the memories of his childhood and pulled out the worst one, the one that was filled with both physical pain so bright and white and shocking that it was blinding, and with the mental trauma of knowing that it was his mother’s birthday in this memory and that Schmidt had killed her not a year ago and that he was still there in Schmidt’s lab. He recalled that memory in as much vivid detail as he could muster, bolstered by his own raging fury, and he flung it against the mental connection that was Charles, forcing it into the foreign entity in his mind and feeling a twisting, dodging resistance to his mental attack, but still pushing and stuffing until the writhing piece of his consciousness that was Charles snapped out of his head with a shriek.

  
It happened in a matter of microseconds. Time was nothing in the mental world, and Erik snapped back to reality and out of his mind with a gasp, feeling slightly dazed, as if he’d forgotten to breathe. His anger was suddenly gone, sinking out of existence as quickly as it had come. Charles, too, was nowhere to be found in his mind.  
There was a quiet sob, no more than a quick breath in, from behind him. Erik spun around and there was Charles lying on the floor curled tightly into the fetal position with his hands clasped around his head, over his ears. He was shaking visibly, drawing in shuddering breaths in a slow repetition, as if he were constantly reminding himself to breath. Erik could only stand and stare for a long minute, paralyzed, as the thought I did this beat a staccato tattoo on the inside of his skull.

  
Then finally the telepath began to uncurl, snapping Erik back into motion. “Charles… I… I don’t…” He trailed off as he helped the telepath to his feet, hands fluttering unsteadily for once around the shorter man’s shoulders. But Charles did not look at him once as he stood, pulling his coat tight around himself and keeping his gaze fixed on the carpet. The telepath took one more stunted breath in and pushed off Erik with one hand, stumbling out the door of the motel room and into the cold night.  
Erik watched him go, unable to move or do anything, and then collapsed into a chair at the slam of the door. So many things he didn’t understand – that Charles had been so affected by a memory that he should have already seen in his early forays into Erik’s mind; that Erik had been capable of affecting the telepath at all; that Erik had just attacked his only friend and then left him to walk out alone into the night. How he loathed himself. This – this was not how it was supposed to go; this was not the way of the world. Charles was the strong one, the one who was solid and set in himself and his morals, the one who had complete control over his mind and whose mutation could not be used against him. Erik was never supposed to be able to do this, was never supposed to be able to hurt Charles.

  
He glanced over at the door again, still not really comprehending what had just happened. Surely – surely Charles just needed some space, and then he would be back and Erik could apologize and it would all blow over.

  
He waited another 5 minutes in the chair, staring at the door as if he could will the other man through it, anxiously turning a metal coin over and over again on his palm.  
Finally he stood, thinking that perhaps if he showered he would emerge to find Charles inside again.

  
15 minutes later Erik reentered the room having gained nothing but wet hair for his troubles. He scowled at Charles’ necktie, sitting draped over the chair where its owner had left it. _Charles…? Charles, where are you?_ He cautiously projected the mental message into the air, aware that it was teeming with undertones of come back and I’m sorry, so sorry and a hundred other feelings that he wasn’t sure he understood himself.

  
Nothing. He couldn’t even feel the little niggling warmth in the base of his skull that signified the presence of his friend. It made him anxious. He’d grown protective over Charles and being able to feel his existence had become a reassurance to Erik of the other man’s safety.  
The mutant heaved a quick breath and then grabbed his coat and shoes and stalked outside, sending out mental feelers for the bits of metal that were Charles – zippers, metal grommets on his shoes, small Swiss Army penknife, the favourite fountain pen he carried everywhere, the small bit of spare change left over from their stop at a café earlier.  
He was in their car, in the passenger seat.

  
Erik frowned, sent his intentions very loudly into the air, and then walked over to the driver side door and climbed in.

  
Charles was hunched over, hands on knees and head in hands, when Erik got in. The telepath flinched a little at the sound of the door shutting, turning to peer at Erik with red rimmed eyes that were dry now but seemed overflowing with every sadness the world had ever seen.

  
“Charles…” Erik trailed off, feeling completely out of his element, and not for the first time since he’d met the telepath. “What - are you – are you alright? What happened?”  
Charles glanced over at his friend, looking more like a kicked puppy than Erik supposed anyone should ever have the right to look. “Erik, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry for what he did to you and your mother and I shouldn’t have looked and I jus-“

  
Erik cut him off, reaching over to grasp the telepath by the shoulder and once more meeting his eyes. “Charles. Charles! I’m fine. Are you alright?”  
Charles nodded faintly, his eyes mildly unfocused. “Yes, yes, I’m quite fine Erik, it’s just… it’s a lot. You have so much hurt in your past, I’m so sorry…” He focused on Erik again with a look of weary contrition. “Forgive me?”

  
Erik shook his head, eyes downcast, mind in a swirl. “No, Charles, it’s I who should be asking your forgiveness. I am so sorry I’ve hurt you.”

  
They sat there for a moment in calm silence – calm on Charles’ part, anyhow; Erik was still a veritable maelstrom of emotions made worse by the fact that Charles was most definitely shielding him out quite strongly.

  
Finally the telepath spoke, with a little more of his usual vigor and optimism. “You know, Erik, I’ve always wondered if your mutation gave you some sort of latent telepathic strength – not telepathy in the least, but an increased awareness of your mental self that is quite rare among non telepaths. I should say that this confirms it concretely. It’s quite interesting – we may have to play with it in the future, no?”

  
Erik glanced at him incredulously out of the corner of his eye. The ease with which this man moved past events that Erik considered momentous never ceased to amaze him. “I… I haven’t any idea, Charles.”

  
“Well.” The telepath let out a whoosh of breath, turning away from Erik and playing with the door handle. “Supper then? I’m still quite famished.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS ACTUALLY THE OLD FIRST CHAPTER! Sorry guys :D

Within a few sessions, Charles became adept enough at using Cerebro that the number of mutants located was far too great for Erik and Charles to visit even half of them on their recruiting trips-gone-rescue missions.  Charles and Hank quickly came up with a flagging system which (to Erik’s partial chagrin) puts the mutants in the likely worst living situations at the highest priority level.  It operates partly based on what Charles can glean from the head of the mutant and partly based on other factors like geographic location or demographics.  Erik had made a case for recruiting a few of the stronger, more self sufficient mutants first – rather than these children – but Charles would have none of it.  He was adamant that they function first as a safe haven, then as a recruitment mechanism, and he would not be shaken.

And so, although it may not have been in his best interests in terms of assuring Shaw’s defeat, Erik agreed to the system.

Said flagging system was how they ended up on some back road in Idaho, winding along between walls of towering pines that framed jagged mountains in the distance.  This particular mutant hadn’t set off any warning signals when Charles had brushed past her mind – other than an excited note of “She’s like… she’s like me! I believe we’ve found another telepath, of sorts!” – but Hank had marked her down as a priority simply due to the fact that she appeared to be living in an area completely isolated from civilization.  The obscure rural setting, combined with the possibility that her mutation caused inaccuracies in Charles’ take on her living situation, meant that she moved neatly into Charles’ and Erik’s itinerary - and so here they were.

It wasn’t so bad really – Erik loved the unpopulated roads and the wild abandon of the sprawling forests here.  There was so much room, the high altitude left a chill in the air that made Erik feel briskly invigorated, and the soil was rich in trace iron that set his senses constantly abuzz.  Almost better was getting to watch Charles as he lounged in the passenger seat of the car they’d rented after landing at the nearest airport (several hours from their destination).  Charles had insisted on leaving the windows down, to better smell the pines.  The mountain air brought an extra tinge of color to his cheeks and lips, his hair was mussed up and flopping everywhere, and his eyes were delightedly bright as he took in their expansive surroundings.

 Charles was beautiful, Erik thought.  So perfect, so pure, unruined by the atrocities of men; but also so selfless and controlled.  If he was a lamp, Erik was a helpless moth, drawn to a beacon in a mostly dark world.  It was times like these when Erik was simultaneously deathly thankful for and disappointed by Charles’ promise to stay out of his head; on the one hand, the last thing he needed was for Charles to catch one of his moments of not-entirely-platonic longing, but on the other hand sometimes Charles legitimately seemed to be flirting with him.  It didn’t mean anything, of course, as Erik constantly reminded himself.  Charles… was charisma incarnate; he could produce chemistry in a conversation with a brick wall and flirted with about anything that moved or spoke.  The only thing worse than having to squirrel away his feelings for the other man would be for Erik to let slip, and have to experience the rejection and ruined friendship that would surely follow.  Anyway, Erik thought to himself, now was not the time for relationships – not that Erik had ever had time for relationships, or had even had any relationships – and Charles was a proper Oxford scholar, not a Nazi-hunting homosexual with a messy past.  They would hardly have been compatible anyways.

He was snapped back into the present, clinically tucking his musings into a locked up corner of his mind, as they passed an obscure turnoff onto a dirt road and Charles started frantically waving his hands about.   “Wait, wait, Erik that was it!”

Erik brought the car to a halt before cautiously executing a u-turn on the narrow road.  And if he used his powers to just help nudge the car around the corner, what was it? No foul, no harm, he thought in a moment of uncharacteristic giddiness.  His generally stoic demeanor was feeling a little interrupted by a bubbly sense of anticipation and joy, and he turned to Charles with a raised eyebrow.  “I believe you’re leaking a little, my friend.  Unless I’m more personally invested in this drive than I’d thought.”

Charles looked chastened, although his good-natured smile was already threatening to break back through, and he clapped a hand firmly on Erik’s shoulder with a light squeeze.  “Oh, goodness Erik, I’m so sorry, sometimes I don’t notice…”

Erik turned back to the road, biting back several nonsensical replies that floated to the top of his brain.  “No matter.  Let’s go find this girl of yours.”  They started down the road, Erik more curious than apprehensive about what might be waiting for them.  Some days with Charles felt complete in a way that was indescribable to him; alone each of them was admittedly a force of nature in their own rights, but as a pair it seemed they were unstoppable, unbeatable, incapable of anything but success.

They shortly rolled into a small farming community.  The car, all shiny red paint, looked strangely out of place among a number of squat log cabins.  A goat grazed contentedly alongside the road, and in the distance the pine trees were interrupted by an enormous meadow.  A group of children wearing ambiguously plain clothing and playing on a rope swing gawked at them for a moment before running off to one of the buildings.

Charles frowned, fingers to his temple.  “It… appears to be some sort of commune, almost.  How curious! They have their own little society, back in the woods here.  Limited use of technology, hardly any contact with other towns, and they grow most of their own food… some of the children leave for school but many just stay here… it’s fascinating!”  He dropped his hand, turning to Erik.  “The girl – Lena – lives with her family just over there.  Shall we?”

“Is there likely to be any danger?”

Charles chuckled.  “No, I daresay this will be one of our more pleasant visits… these people play by their own rules.  Pacifists, the lot of them.”

“Ah, well, you’ll fit right in then, won’t you?”  Erik stepped out of the car and straightened his jacket, his – or maybe it was always Charles’, who knew? – anticipation building palpably.  They down a short gravel road until Charles stopped, turned, and hopped up the steps to a small cabin before knocking firmly on the door.  Erik could see his charismatic showman’s persona falling into place – all sparkling blue eyes and soft, knowing (if mildly restrained) smiles.

A stout middle aged woman opened the door with a sunny grin, looking mildly taken aback at the two men standing on her front stoop – Erik, all clean lines and dark colors, a tall shadow behind Charles’ bright but commanding disposition.

Charles offered a hand.  “Hello, ma’am, I’m Charles Xavier and this is my colleague Erik Lensherr.  We’re here to speak with Lena Dunham – are you her mother? – I believe we may have some information she could be interested in, regarding one or another of her I’m sure numerous talents.”  All this was presented with a charming, reassuring smile and a firm handshake.  Erik leaned against the porch railing and tried to appear non-threatening.

The woman’s smile faltered a moment but then returned full force.  “Of course! Will you come in for tea, and I’ll just summon Lena?  And of course you’ll have to tell me how you heard of her – you must know something of her gifts then?”  The woman led them into a quaint living room, taking jackets and seeing them seated comfortably on a worn sofa.  “She’s quite a girl, my Lena.  So invaluable to our little community.” She bustled off to the kitchen, returning a moment later.  “Water’s on… can I fetch you gentleman anything else?”

Charles smiled.  “No, that’ll be quite alright, thank you!”

Erik echoed his thanks. “We really appreciate your hospitality.” The living room they were seated in was quaint but homey, with an old radio standing in one corner and floral curtains flanking the windows.  The worn wooden furniture added to the rustic feel.

The woman seated herself, clasping hands over one knee.  “Of course, dears.  Now, I must ask, from where did you come to know of Lena and her… abilities? We generally don’t get out much, but we try to keep the knowledge mostly within our community when we do – you know, of course, people will take advantage of anything, and we want her to be happy…” she trailed off.

Charles leaned forward.  “Of course, I understand your concerns. Erik and I are officially here on government business, but with no intention of coercing Lena into anything she doesn’t want.  Really we’re here to share with her the news that she isn’t alone – that there are others like her – and offering her the chance to meet them, if she so desires.  It was abilities like her own that allowed us to locate her.”

Erik spoke up.  “I take it you have an understanding of what Lena is capable of?”

Mrs. Dunham nodded, appearing mollified.  “Yes, certainly, and it appears you do as well – but you’d do better speaking with her than me; let me just call her in.”  The woman fell silent for a moment, her face slipping into a mask of concentration, before she focused back on them.  “Alright, she’ll be along in just a jiffy.”

Charles opened his mouth, made a small strangled noise, and then closed it again.

Erik glanced over at his friend, frowning.  It was unlike Charles to stutter.  His friend had a look of utmost shock, almost confusion, written over his features, with a few other indeterminable feelings mixed in. 

Finally the telepath quietly murmured, “That would be excellent.  Thank you.”

The kettle began to whistle, and Mrs. Dunham heaved herself to her feet and moved into the kitchen.  When she returned she carried a tea tray and was accompanied by an unassuming brown-haired teenager, who wore an easy going smile and a bright expression and settled in the chair across from them with endearing awkwardness. 

As the girl entered the room, Erik could feel her presence – it felt like the brush of a fresh mountain breeze against just the very outermost layer of his mind, not direct and personified and far reaching like Charles’ telepathy, but light and without any force, just gleaning the very barest of his general moods.  Charles had fallen silent, examining the girl with a wondrous expression.

Erik coughed.  “Hello, Lena, I’m Erik and this is my friend Charles.  We hear you have certain special capabilities.”

Charles snapped to.  “Indeed.  We came to share with you the news that there are others like you, Lena – Erik and myself included, in fact.  Erik here can manipulate metals with his mind.”

Erik raised a hand and lifted a teaspoon off the coffee table, gently swirling it through the air before letting it drift back down in a feather-like motion.

Both Lena and her mother were looking at them with more interest now, and Erik nodded towards them.  “Why don’t you tell us a bit more about what you can do then?”

Lena sat forward.  “Well, I can generally tell what people are feeling like, if they’re happy or angry or sad… and sometimes I can make their moods go away a little bit, or change… and if they try to talk to me in their minds, I can hear and talk back.”

Charles nodded.  “Interesting – a light higher order, mood based telepathy…” he murmured almost to himself.  “So if I didn’t want you to hear a thought, would you be able to?  Or could you cause me to carry out an action against my will? What do you see in peoples’ minds?”

Lena frowned.  “No, I don’t think so… people have to kind of think words in my direction for me to understand them.  And I can’t see what they’re doing or make them do things.  I just see… colors, for their feelings, kind of.  And I can sort of shift the colors a little if I try.”

Her mother butted in.  “She’s all kinds of help around here, you can’t imagine… she can calm the livestock right down when we need it, or when they need the veterinarian… and if any of our folks get into trouble someplace, they just call for Lena and she lets someone else know.”  She glanced at her daughter with eyes full of pride and love.  “She’s a gift from God, is what she is.”

Charles smiled warmly.  “Amazing!  So you enjoy working with animals then, Lena?”

The girl nodded.  “Yea, and people too!  I apprentice with both the vet and the town doctor and I’ll work with them eventually… I just love being able to help.” She smiled.  “But wait, what d’you do, mister?  You said you and your friend were both… um… like me right?”

Charles nodded.  “The term most used for people like us is ‘mutants’, because the gifts are caused by mutations in our DNA, my dear.  And I have a very similar mutation to yours… I can sometimes hear peoples’ thoughts and feel their emotions, although I don’t think I see the lovely colors that you do when I do so.”

“Mutants.” The girl rolled the name around on her tongue.  “I’ve read about mutation in my biology books but never really heard it as causing such a positive thing before.”

For the second time that day Erik heard the soft catch in Charles’ throat.  He silently projected a thought at his companion.  _Are you alright, my friend?_

Charles’ thoughts brushed against his mind just a moment later.  _Yes, yes, of course, I just… Yes.  I imagine we’ll be going soon._

Erik nodded.  “In any case, Lena, we’re here because we have found many other mutants like yourself and I, and we wanted-“

Charles cut him off abruptly.  “We just wanted to tell you that we understand your family’s concerns about outsiders learning of and taking advantage of your gift, and we want you to know that we will do our utmost to ensure that the United States government, at least, does not do so.”  His smile looked a little forced to Erik as he dug for his wallet, pulling out a creamy paper card and handing it to the girl.  “In case you are ever in need of help, here is my contact information… if you can get a hold of me, I will do my best to provide you with whatever you need.  I think we will be going now… we have a long drive ahead of us.”

Erik frowned, confused.  Charles was straying entirely off of their mission.  _Charles, you didn’t even offer her-_

 _Not now, Erik.  I’ll explain later. Let’s go._  Charles was already standing as Mrs. Dunham collected their coats, all the while spouting thanks and telling them to visit anytime.  The telepath’s tone in Erik’s head was composed but clipped, almost terse.

Erik raised his eyebrows briefly, accepting his coat.  “Thank you both for your time.  Best of luck with your studies, Lena.”  He nodded to the girl and her mother.

Charles appeared as nonchalant and content as ever as he shook both women’s hands.  “So good to meet you both… please, contact me if you have any further questions… Lena, I have several colleagues in the medical field, if you are ever wanting for more reading material, you must let me know… goodbye to you both!”

And with that they were out the door and headed back to their car. 

Erik said nothing as he slipped into the driver’s seat, not bothering with the seatbelt or the ignition key, and eased the car back towards the highway.  Beside him, Charles’ cheerful demeanor had slipped into something quiet and brooding as soon as they had entered the vehicle.  He propped his chin on his hand and stared out the window, not speaking or letting any inkling of what he was thinking reach Erik.

The taller man put up with this for a good 30 miles before he pulled onto a turnout overlooking what was described as a “Scenic Viewpoint” by the sign on the highway.

Charles seemed to shake himself back to the present as the car stopped, turning to Erik with vaguely guilty eyes.  “Oh… I’m sorry, Erik, you’ve been driving quite a while, I can take over now.”  He looked tired, even a little haunted, and past Erik’s mental walls he could feel the telepath’s emotions churning.

Erik shook his head, crossing his arms and allowing a little surge of irritation to flare up and fuel him.  “No, Charles, I’m fine, but we’re sitting here until you explain to me what that was, I don’t care if we don’t reach the hotel until midnight.  We’re supposed to be recruiting mutants!  Bringing them together!  We could’ve helped that girl, given her so much, and you didn’t even tell her about the facilities, our program!  Another telepath… you could have trained her, probably led her to more power than she ever dreamed of!”  Erik’s voice was more heated now.

Charles slumped into his seat.  “No, Erik, you… you don’t understand, my friend.  She has more there at her home than I could ever hope to provide her with anywhere else.”

Erik’s eyes went wide as he stared at the telepath incredulously.  “Are… are you kidding?  Did you not see that- that village?  They’re living in the past, Charles!  Outdated technology, some kind of communist organization, that girl – she wanted to be a doctor, we could have given her real schooling, not an apprenticeship at whatever crack doctor they have in town!  She would’ve loved meeting Hank, talking to your scientist friends!”

Charles flinched a little, looking away.  “No, I can’t… just no, Erik.  You don’t get it.  Can we just leave it, please?”

“No.  Explain yourself, Charles.  Or else there’s nothing to “get.” Explain to me why we left a mutant with potential in some little hippie commune where she’s only happy because she has no idea what she’s missing, because she doesn’t know how much bett-“

“It’s not better!” Charles turned on him, eyes suddenly alight, cheeks slightly flushed.  “The life we could have offered her – it isn’t better, not for her, not for people like… like us!” His voice was raised but a little shaky and he subjected Erik to the full force of his clear blue stare before taking a deep breath and continuing.  “It’s… no.  You don’t get it, Erik.  She’s better where she is.”

Charles reached to turn the key in the ignition and restart the car but Erik grabbed his wrist in an iron grip and forced his hand back down by the glove box.  “No, Charles.  You still haven’t told me anything.  We don’t move until you explain, and if you don’t get it out, I swear I will go back there right now and offer her a slot in the program.”

Charles glared at him, but Erik was no stranger to that game and stared him down, blue eyes meeting with grey.  Finally the smaller man’s face crumpled a little, a hollow look falling into his eyes that caused a funny little twist in the pit of Erik’s stomach.  Charles relaxed his arm and directed his gaze down at his hands.  “She’s accepted there, Erik.  Her telepathy – she’s surrounded by people who take that as a blessing and don’t fear her for it, people who’ve taught her that her gift is… a positive.  How could I take her away from that?  How could I take her back to a place where telepaths are warned at every turn to stay away from the minds of those closest to them?”

Erik’s breath hitched and he released the other man’s wrist.  “Charles…”

The telepath seemed to shrink away from him.  “No, Erik… she’s free, where she is, to exercise the gift that’s a part of who she is and how she relates to others.  If I brought her back to the base she’d have to wall it in, cut herself off from all the minds around her… it’s like turning off a part of yourself, you don’t understand… but if you don’t do it people don’t accept you.”  He looked up at Erik now, his gaze steady.  “You all say that mutations are beautiful, should be celebrated, but hers and mine – no one wants another person inside their head.  You’ve told me off for it plenty of times yourself. What I wouldn’t give…”  Charles trailed off, then turned away resolutely.  “I can’t take that away from her.  She’s allowed to be herself around those people.  In fact, I find I’m rather jealous.”

Erik sat in stunned silence, the horror of how _right_ Charles was crashing over him.  All this time he’d been going about preaching the beauty of mutation to the others, telling them to take pride in what set them apart, but he’d forced Charles to suppress his mutation.  He’d wanted Charles to normalize… to be less of a mutant.  He swallowed, forcing down a nauseating wave of regret and guilt.

Charles glanced over at him.  “Oh… Erik, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.  I don’t blame any of you for asking me to keep to myself, and in reality the “autopilot” part of my telepathy is just a basic awareness of the minds around me, it’s not like I have to shut much down.” 

Erik just nodded, locking all the swirling emotions down and starting the car.  “I’m sorry, Charles.”

The telepath shook his head.  “No, really, it’s not so bad.  It’s a little my own fault, anyway, I think I scared you off somewhat when I told you I knew everything about you… Not true, I was just trying to think of a way to convince you to stay, since I really couldn’t stand the thought of…”  Charles strayed off suddenly, and Erik looked over to see a quick flush spread across his face and down his neck.  The shorter man was studiously avoiding eye contact, staring out the window at what was albeit a stunning mountain view.

Erik stiffly jerked his eyes back to the road, feeling threatened by all the emotions running around his head.  Surviving his childhood and adolescence – that had been one thing, very straightforward – there would be pain and he would work through it.  This, though, this was new and something that he hadn’t had to deal with since he lost his family.  Because Charles was quickly becoming someone who he couldn’t stand the thought of losing, and that in itself was a very scary thought.  He crushed it down, turning his attention to little token math problems- calculating the time until they reached the hotel, or how much he could save them in gasoline expenditure by subtly helping engine parts along with his mind.  Compartmentalization was key.


End file.
